


So Charming It Hurts

by Checkerbox



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen, It's Kevin so there's a lot of blood, M/M, a bit of language, and a little violence, and some creepy stuff, really it's an open collection so be wary if squeamish, some torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-13 03:59:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Checkerbox/pseuds/Checkerbox
Summary: A place to post the occasional drabble centering around Desert Bluffs Too and its very favorite radio host.





	1. A Stranger In Town

You don't know how long you've been wandering in this empty desert.

At least, not in terms of minutes, and hours, and days.

You know you've been wandering long enough that you can't remember where it is you actually came from. You've been starving for a long time but you've never dropped from hunger. You've been thirsty for just as long, but never fell from dehydration. Your phone battery is always at 40%.

You've been wandering long enough that you think anything, any change at all, would be a blessing.

But you are wrong.

You stumble upon something. You don't know how you could have missed it. One minute it's an endless expanse of desert as far as the eye can see. The next, you are tripping over a sidewalk edge and catching your balance at the entrance to a bustling little town, one that could have come out of Arizona if you happened to be in Arizona at the time.

There is a sign--you pull back to read it.

The sign says, "Welcome to Desert Bluffs Too!"

Too as in "also". Not the number two.

There are people in this town, ones that spot you quickly. They do nothing at first. Just stare, as you make your way down the street. Looking for a police station, or a road map, or anything. Someone in some kind of authority to tell you what's what. Finally you ask around. You ask the smiling, happy, friendly people with dark coffee and barbecue stains all over their clothing.

They tell you there is no police.

There is no longer a city council.

There is no longer a mayor.

And, though you didn't ask them, they say there is no longer a Strexcorp.

 _We do have Kevin_ , they say. _We can take you to Kevin_.

You don't have time to respond. They don't wait for your approval of the idea. The people simply grab your forearms and begin to drag you towards the strange pyramid with sparking lights popping in the air outside of it. When you get closer you can see written in large lettering over a small door at its base, "DESERT BLUFFS TOO COMMUNITY RADIO".

You have to struggle not to thrash about as you make your way inside. The stench hits you first--the smell of congealing and decayed flesh. There are dead animals all around the dimly lit building, your feet popping eyeballs and crunching beaks and teeth as you walk. Some of them look like they have been there for days. Others look like they were freshly killed this morning. You realize that it is not barbecue sauce on the clothing of the people who have your arms in their vice grips.

As you get closer to the recording booth, you hear a voice. You think perhaps you have been hearing this voice the entire time. Speaking from every radio in every corner of the town, bubbly and giggly, a friendly reminder for all citizens to work work work. Or else.

He is sitting at his desk, mouth so close to the microphone he could have been whispering sweet nothings to it. The surface that his arms are neatly and comfortably resting on is decorated with organs and pools of blood. More than anyone he is stained in it; a black and red stained yellow sweater-vest with a green bowtie and brown slacks. He is at the end of a broadcast.

His is not the station in the middle of a broadcast about you.

He has been talking about you, though. You are the first visitor in town in a long time.

He signs off for the day, and he turns to look at you. You fight the urge to vomit as you see his impossibly wide grin.

His eyes are black as obsidian. There is what looks like a third eye on his forehead, but it is stitched shut. You feel a waking horror in your chest, wondering--wondering what would be under that eyelid, were it to open. And grateful, that someone had the foresight to close it first.

When he stands and opens his mouth you shut your eyes. But only for a moment. For then at that moment, you hear his voice.

First a long, drawn out _Hiiiiiiiiiiii!_ and then, _It's always so WONDERFUL to have strangers in our quaint little town!_

His voice. It's magnificent. You weren't really listening before, not when there was so much distraction in the world around you. But here, now, in person, you feel as though your breath has been taken away. It's the most happy voice you've ever heard. The notes coming from the monster in front of you make you feel like everything is alright. More than alright. _Fantastic_.

He is neither tall, nor short. You know this because you yourself are short, and you must look up at him, your jaw slack with awe. He ignores your expression, clasping his hands together in delight. _How are you liking Desert Bluffs Too so far?_

You tell him there is a lot of blood. He can't help but agree, licking his lips as he does so.

"Are you the person in charge?" you ask, pushing through your adoration to remember the objective you had set out to do when you entered.

Kevin seems to consider this. The Desert Bluffs Too residents beside you nod their heads with their plastered on smiles, and as he considers it he takes their opinion into account.

 _I'm not the boss_ , he finally decides, _I'm just the happy, helpful voice making sure that everything here is running exactly as it should_.

 _Except the radio station_ , he adds quickly, after a moment. _I am VERY MUCH in charge of the radio station._

That makes sense to you. You nod your head, and glance around at the two people holding you. You explain to Kevin that you've been lost wandering an endless desert, starving and thirsty. And he keeps smiling at you, chuckling as he hears of your misfortune. When you are done he offers to buy you a milkshake.

The milkshake parlor reminds you of an ice cream shop you remember visiting once, perhaps the place that you came from. Only instead of there being over fifty different flavors to choose from, there's two. Chocolate and vanilla. And the chocolate has been crossed out with black sharpie marker.

You and Kevin sit across from each other at the table with your milkshakes. You slurp on yours a little too loudly, and his brow creases, but the smile does not waver. He asks you about yourself.

"I'm from a little town," you answer, and though your memories have been hazy and distant since you entered this otherworld, you know that is the truth. "I used to work in a pawn shop. I think it was a pawn shop."

 _Oh I **love** working_ , Kevin says. It doesn't seem to be entirely related to what you said.

That's what Desert Bluffs Too is, you can tell easily. Work. Even the people drinking milkshakes nearby you are working, little PDAs in their laps, furiously punching in numbers with the straws in their mouths. Kevin isn't doing that, but then introducing newcomers to the town is probably a job all on its own.

 _Are you good?_ he asks you. You frown, coughing and clenching your fingers. Maybe being good is a requirement of being in Desert Bluffs Too. But then, from the look of all the murderously happy people around you it doesn't seem like it. You tactfully decide not to answer the question.

Kevin then wonders aloud if you have seen the new dog park. You tell him, you have not.

 _Oh you must!_ he croons. _It's such a wonderful new addition to our new home!_

There isn't room for refusal, not that you feel especially compelled to refuse anything Kevin says, anyway. His appearance is unsettling and he smells weird from all the blood, but that _voice_ \--it's like Prozac in your ears. You never want him to stop speaking to you that way, you never want to hear him when he's trying to be unpleasant.

Your milkshake is left half-finished on the table, but that's okay. The janitor's already getting it when you leave, a big smile plastered on his face. It's one of those things that makes you feel like you can't stay here; you almost never smile. It's not that you aren't happy, at times. But the expression doesn't come easily to you.

Perhaps that's why there's an odd tint to the way Kevin looks at you with his black, black eyes.

You pass by several houses on your way, Kevin actually holding your hand and smudging a bit of blood on it in the process. Some of them are under construction, more people working furiously to get each new building standing. _Busy little bees_ , you hear from your companion, _We want it to be exactly like it was_.

You don't offer an opinion. The layout of the town is familiar to you, but not, you think, because you've been in the place before, but because perhaps you've been somewhere that was similar. But different.

Eventually the two of you arrive at a plot of land off the center of town, amidst more of the skeleton houses and what looked to be a shopping mall. It was full of bright green grass and surrounded by little white posts connected with painted gold chains. There were benches further inside that you could see, and even a burgeoning tree. It was beautiful, but it felt…wrong, somehow. Like it was shimmering in front of your vision, like it wasn't _real_.

You ask Kevin what that is.

 _That?_ He giggles, hoarse and halting chuckles. _That's just the new dog park. Don't you know what a dog park looks like?_

You look at the low fence, the inviting flowers and benches set up for people to sit. "I guess I don't," you say, because you had this impression that dog parks have high walls. High, big black walls that no one can enter or leave.

 _Nobody's been able to use it yet. --Why don't you be the first?_ He says it as though the idea has only just occurred to him, letting go of your hand. And despite your hesitance to say no to such a charming creature, you shake your head. There is something familiar in it. Something natural, in not entering a dog park.

 _Don't be silly,_ you hear.

When you turn your head to him, Kevin, suddenly, has a tennis ball in his hand, and, suddenly, that's all you can look at.

You feel strange. The world shakes a little, comes out of focus. Some of the colors seem dimmer to you, though not the tennis ball. Not that neon green tennis ball. In fact, it almost seems brighter than before. Practically luminous, as the rest of the colors diminish around you.

Kevin's grin almost splits his face as he speaks, _Who's a good boy?_

You feel your voice come burbling unbidden out of your throat, "Is--it--me? Am--I--the good--boy?"

He teases you for a moment with silence, bouncing the tennis ball in his hand. Your eyes follow it up and down.

And then finally, _It's you!_

"It's--me?" You feel your heart sing with joy, even as you are unable to control your own lips. "I'm--the good--boy!?"

_It's you, it's you! You're such a good boy!_

Your teeth begin to ache as you feel them pushed out of your mouth. "I'm--" Your legs are snapping, your feet growing impossibly long even as you yourself become shorter, and shorter. "I'm--" Your thumbs simply fall off, strands of your hair sliding over your back as your clothes become too big for you, too big and horribly ill-fitting. "I'm--" Your bones crack and shift inside you, your organs squelching as they rearrange. And through it all there's Kevin, glorious Kevin, with his wide, impossibly wide grin and his hands clasped together over the single tennis ball.

"I'm--" Only your voice no longer sounds like a voice. It sounds instead, like

_Bark! Bark!_

_Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?_ His question drives you mad. It's you. He told you. But if he's asking, what if it's not you? What if someone else has become the good boy?

And then he adds, _It's you!,_ in that wonderful, **fun happy warm** voice of his _,_ and your stomach rolls around in exhilaration all over again.

When he leans down to scratch your head, you might as well be in heaven.

_You're a good boy! You're a good boy!_

_Bark! Bark!_

You whine when the scratching stops, though you don't have time to miss it for long. He is holding the tennis ball, staring at you with rapt attention in his unblinking, unmoving black eyes. You prepare yourself. Looking between him, and it.

_Now, good boy, go FETCH._

And he throws the ball over the wall into the new dog park.

You feel your body move of its own accord. It is not an unpleasant feeling. You bound and hop, finding the entrance to the dog park and quickly shooting through it. You run and run after the ball and it spirals through the air, spirals far longer than you would have ever thought possible with how he threw it. You run and you see nothing else as the world shifts and moves around you, as you fizzle and - _pop!_ \- back into existence.

Finally the ball falls on newly cut grass and you pick it up in your mouth.

Kevin is gone. You find yourself outside the gates of a small plot of land with high, impossibly high black walls. Higher than you remember.

And you do remember this place. This place, with a desert sky so hot, and hooded figures circling in ever more ominous ellipses. Drool drips from your mouth as you carry the ball, pleased, looking for someone to tell you what a good boy you are.

Finally you come across another man, one who is also not tall and not short, one who also has in the middle of his forehead a third eye, though the lid is not sewn shut. You look up at him, tail wagging as fast it can. It takes a moment to get his attention, as he's checking his phone, but he does notice you, does put the phone in his pocket as you enter the very corner of his vision.

He looks down at you, and then he screams in terror.


	2. What Might Have Been But Probably Shouldn't

Sometimes Kevin would think about when Carlos was still there. Think about if he'd never left.

Imagine an entire romance with him.

He remembers doing this sort of thing a lot, back before Strexcorp. Back before the glory, the beauty, of his Smiling God. It was all a massive waste of time, he knew. There was no productivity in thinking about what might have been. And, perhaps, if he was still with Strexcorp, he would have resisted the urge to daydream. Fought the little niggling thought in the back of his mind that said _What if?_

But he was in charge now, dammit! He set his own hours! And if he could work so much overtime that it just cycled back into ordinary work time, then he could take a few little breaks every now and then to let his mind wander.

It didn't take him very long, after all. He cycled through the same thoughts every time.

That letter--that damnable letter that he'd torn to pieces and burned--Kevin would close his eyelids and imagine that the letter had been for Cecil. That Carlos had gone to deliver the letter to _Cecil_. And everything would be right in the world because it would be _Cecil_ , not _Kevin_ , who had been abandoned by Carlos. Who had felt his heart torn out of his chest, because of Carlos. And he would be sad for Cecil, his good friend Cecil, of course. But the sadness would only serve to make him happier, in the long run, when Carlos returned.

He would think about Carlos still living with the masked warrior giants, the ones that had since left them after being scared off by the enthusiasm of the Desert Bluffians. The warriors would stay, with Carlos around. Sweet, nurturing Carlos who would take care of their wounds. Carlos who wasn't particularly careful with his labcoat while cleaning up, and would often get gorgeous dark red stains along his sleeves.

And he would imagine times Carlos would come visit Kevin in his radio station, just to say hi. In that friendly way that he would. Sometimes it would be at the end of the broadcast, and Kevin would stand. Go over to him, just to be near him. And Carlos might back away, in that adorable way he used to, and would accidentally brush up against the walls. The blood soaking into his clothing, perhaps in his hair.

And the thought of Carlos covered in the blood from his _own_ studio gave Kevin a pleasant little shiver up his spine, and he'd hum, lost in that part of the story for a few minutes.

They would spend time together, sometimes even working together at the lab because unlike Cecil, unlike intellectually repressed, government lie-fed _Cecil_ , Kevin actually cared about knowledge, and science, and _working_. Kevin would compliment Carlos while there, and Carlos would blush, because he was so delightfully shy. After a little bit of this, Carlos would finally compliment Kevin.

Kevin had to puzzle over, for a moment, what Carlos could compliment on him that he hadn't already complimented on Cecil. He settled on the smile. Cecil's smile was so paltry in comparison to his own. And Kevin did so love to smile.

Kevin would want, and want, of course. But it would be Carlos to make the first move. To call him up and ask for a date. A lovely little evening out on the town, just the two of them. And it wouldn't be productive--there would be no work involved at all, nothing they could do to make the time cost-effective, but that would make it all the more delicious. Make it rebellious. They would keep that part to themselves. Make a pretense of being busy, if anyone asked them. Kevin would resist the notion at first, because he was the very image of propriety, but sweet, charming Carlos with his delightful hair would be so persuasive.

The specifics of the date varied, depending on whatever Kevin was into at the time he was imagining. Sometimes they went to a restaurant with detached eyeballs hanging from the lights that glowed the most wonderful colors. Sometimes they dropped by the bowling alley, and Carlos would take notes on Kevin's perfect throws, marveling at how he could get a strike every time. Once he imagined them going on a stroll through the park--and then remembered Carlos telling him a very similar anecdote between him and Cecil, and Kevin very quickly dismissed the mental image. 

It would only bring back…sad memories, after all, if it really happened. And Carlos was not supposed to be sad on their date. Carlos was supposed to be brimming with happiness. He was supposed to feel nothing but glee, smiling so much that his cheeks flushed a brilliant red even through the rich tones of his smooth skin.

Whatever the specifics of that first date, the ending was always the same. Kevin would drive him home, the eternal sun beaming over them as though in tacit approval of their love. He would walk Carlos to the door to his lab. The two of them would stand there in that exquisite agony at the end of a first date, not sure how to progress but _wanting_ , and then Carlos would lean in and gently kiss him.

Still sitting at his desk, Kevin sighed at that part. His cheek resting in his palm, which ironically made his smile a little more difficult to make.

Kevin recalled the times when it felt like Carlos might be his, the little seeds that had planted in his mind the notion that he might give up Night Vale for the desert otherworld. He recalled Carlos complaining about how Cecil had always broadcasted everything of their affairs over the air waves for everyone to hear, only leaving out certain intimate details after begging and firm "no, Cecil"s. So Kevin wouldn't be like that. He would be a complete professional. Hinting but never revealing, letting his glee be known for all of Desert Bluffs Too to hear but not giving away the exact source. People who had seen them together would know. That would be enough.

They would go on more dates, becoming closer and more familiar with each of their likes and dislikes. Carlos would come to see just how much he loved Kevin. And Kevin would learn just how deep Carlos' perfection went. 

Oh he wouldn't be perfect at first. Carlos' imperfections were clear to him even at their first meeting, because that was just how Kevin was. He could see through anyone. Even with his third eye stitched shut, even with his eyes burned through, he could see. _Especially_ because his eyes were burned through. But they would be charming at first, the flaws. They would bring in allure and spice to the relationship, and they would be in that little honeymoon phase with it for a while. 

They might even make a place together--buy a condo, perhaps. And he would learn all of Carlos' flaws, find out each and every one as they walked together, ate together, cleaned together, and--he sucked in some air through his teeth, biting on his lower lip--slept together. He would drink them in, revel in each little mistake and disruption with eager abandon, let Carlos bask in his attention and love for as long as the two of them could stand it.

And then, Kevin would fix his flaws.

He would fix Carlos' crooked grin and coffee-stained teeth. Fix the shaggy length of his glossy hair. Fix the way he snorted when he laughed. Fix his nearsightedness. Fix the way he always burned his pancakes in the morning. Fix the frown that would come on his face when he was deep in thought. Fix the way he chewed too loudly when he ate. 

He would fix everything. Everything _wrong_ with Carlos, Kevin would correct. Kevin would make it _right_. And Carlos might resist at first. Carlos would resist the same way that Kevin had once resisted, he would resist perfection because he was afraid of it, because he clung to foolish notions and foolish dreams, foolish things he thought were _important_. But Kevin would guide him through. Because he understood. Because he knew.

And Kevin would introduce Carlos to his Smiling God.

The light would make him pure. And Carlos, sweet, silly Carlos the scientist would see everything for what it was, and he would be perfect and happy at last.

Kevin saw this, saw all of it in his imagination. He imagined an entire romance that culminated in that moment of absolute bliss and ecstasy, when the two of them were one and there was no longer anything to come between them.

But it wasn't true.

In the midst of this reverie Kevin would realize, quite suddenly, that Carlos wasn't there anymore. He had abandoned him. And he remembered how much pain Carlos had caused him by leaving. Beautiful Carlos had made him _un_ happy. Who would do that? Who would cause a _friend_ so much heartache, so much so that for one moment, one horrible, awful moment, Kevin had actually _frowned?_ Who would do that to someone who carried so much pure, unrestrained love for him?

And Kevin would grin wider, so wide that his cheeks actually hurt through their typical numbness, and dismiss the entire fantasy.

He didn't need dumb, ugly Carlos.

He didn't.

That is, until the next time he got to daydreaming.

 


	3. So Much Explaining

"All you're going to do is cut off your circulation, Lauren," Kevin advised in his sing-song voice, watching the blood drop down her wrists as she struggled.

Lauren knew it was hopeless. The cuffs were so tight she wouldn't be able to slip them off with anything less than chopping her hands off, but still she knew she had to struggle. She already had a necklace of bruises shaped like Kevin's fingermarks ringing her neck. And she didn't like the way he was looking at her now, a small thin knife gripped loosely in his fingers.

Despite all this she kept a smile on her face. She always kept a smile on her face. It was the only thing that came naturally to her anymore.

"You're so _helpful_ , Kevin." She spoke through her teeth, finally giving up on getting herself free that way.

"I try to be, Lauren. I'm trying to help _you_ , too, if you'll let me, you silly goose."

They had made a monster, when they changed Kevin.

She hadn't realized it at first. Of course there was his violent reaction to his employment, tearing and biting and laughing as the light of their god shone through his eyes, burning them black. But that was normal. That wasn't really different from any other employee.

But he was very different when it came to what happened after. Kevin--Kevin went above and beyond. Kevin had approached Strexcorp work with the zeal and enthusiasm he had once brought to his charming little Desert Bluffs. He "redecorated" with fresh blood every week, sometimes twice a week, when it was only suggested to do once a month. He regularly reported on the interns that shirked their duties, spoke long soliloquies of worship that weren't even written for him during the free periods on his show, almost never took even an hour off work, and he never, _ever_ closed his lips more than necessary for forming words.

He loved the Smiling God more than anyone.

She had expected him to have fallen apart without the company. After all, he lived and breathed Strexcorp. It should have been easy, making her way back up. There was a void. The corporate leadership that the people of Desert Bluffs had become so accustomed to was gone, but she could be there to fill in the emptiness.

Only to her great consternation, the emptiness hadn't been empty. Kevin had been standing there in the way.

He hadn't fallen apart at all. He'd _thrived_. He was now something vivid and unrestrained, all the brilliant colors lurking in the spectrum of visible light and a few beyond it. Even as his programming fell away and little bits of his old personality bubbled to the surface, he still reveled in everything that the Smiling God had given him, still conducted himself as a whirlwind of joy and blood. And oh, did he now love his new town, the one he had helped build from the ground up. Love it more than any brand loyalty, any company that had let him down.

It was not possible to sneak up on Kevin, she discovered quite unhappily.

"Lauren. Lauren, Lauren, Lauren…" He paced behind her. There wasn't just the knife. There were many instruments on his person, she knew. And she also knew that Kevin didn't need any weapons at all to dismember someone, content to using his teeth and fingers. She figured he didn't intend to kill her, then. Just hurt her. But she could survive an awful lot of hurt with her grin intact. "You know what those people outside said to me? What they wanted me to do? --They wanted me to kill you! Imagine that."

"Me? Oh Kevin you must be mistaken." There was no twinge of hurt in her. Just a little black list in her mind, remembering the faces of the citizens who'd grabbed her. The bad sports.

"It's true! I was surprised too. After how _well_ we all got along before. Oh, but I guess some people change." Her back arched as she felt the knife poke her spine. It wasn't for very long. It was experimental. "You want to know what I said to them?"

"I think I know what you said to them, Kevin--"

"I said, _that's unproductive!_ " He jabbed into her back. Not in any organs--he was very careful to miss her lungs, liver, kidneys. It just tore at muscle. She made a noise of pain in her throat but didn't scream. "Kill someone as hard working as our own Lauren, when there's so much left to be done? What an utter _waste_ that would be!"

That had been the lovely thing about working with Kevin. Even if his contempt radiated from every pore, he valued hard work and productivity above his personal feelings.

It was not so lovely now, though.

"Especially after you so… _thoughtfully_ oversaw my employee training. It's the least I can do in return, to try and make an effort for your sake."

She had a brief vision in her head of Kevin screaming as he was subject to electrical shocks.

"Kevin, this is really a very simple exchange. You don't have to keep me handcuffed here, I'm _perfectly_ happy to resume my duties to this town and make sure _everyone_ is as productive as can be!"

Kevin had gone to set the knife down, and was pulling out a taser, clicking it thoughtfully. He looked back over at her when she was done talking. "Oh yes, it is _very_ simple, Lauren. But…" He giggled, and she giggled too, because his laughter was terribly infectious. "I think we're having a bit of a miscommunication. Tell me, where do you think you fit into all of this?" 

It was a question he already knew the answer to, his black eyes narrowed. Hoping she would have a different answer this time. But she refused. "I'm the _boss_."

And her world was pain, the taser directly applied to her neck. Her teeth ground together as her jaw locked, fingers pained as they tightly contracted. Kevin eyed her like an entomologist would watch a beetle struggling to move after chopping off half its legs, grin widening at the sides and baring more teeth than she thought could possibly fit in a human mouth.

"Would you care to revise that statement, Lauren?"

She had to struggle to get her tongue working again, before she returned, pleasant, "Not at all."

"Well, that wasn't very effective, was it?" He tossed the taser aside and started rummaging in his pockets for something else. "You might think you're stumping me, Lauren, but I could do this all day. Literally, there is nothing I would enjoy _more_ than spending this time with you, right now."

As she once more cut into her wrists with the cuffs she heard his voice drop an octave. "Though I'm sure it will get **old** eventually." When she looked up again he was holding an icepick and a small hammer, drawing back over to her. "This could all stop, you know. Get back to work and do what we love _most_. Just say, 'You're in charge, Kevin'. Just four little words! Well, five counting the contraction as two." His voice was low and soothing as he put the ice pick tip up by her temple, getting the hammer ready.

"That's supposed to go in my eye, Kevin."

"I'm not giving you a _lobotomy_ , Lauren."

He swung the hammer, letting out a croon of glee as it broke skin, warmth trickling down her face. It didn't crack her skull--or at least she's relatively sure it didn’t. But the pain was intense enough to destroy any and all thought inside her, a string of gibberish her initial reply to his demand.

"What do we say, Lauren?" He was considerate enough to follow up with a hard slap to get her reoriented, and her smile twitched. "There's only so many times I can explain something before I decide someone is a hopeless case."

"No!" It was such an ugly word. She hated to hear it, hated to even feel the shape her lips made when she said it. "No no no no no! _I am in charge!_ I--"

Then he was swinging the hammer into the side of her head, grin still stretched over his face but brow darkly furrowed. "I know that change is hard. And sometimes, you need a little help seeing that your circumstances have changed. But you're being so stubborn, Lauren. It's extremely unflattering on you, to be so stubborn. I want you to think about this."

"I HAVE thought about this, Kevin." It was almost like a contest between the two of them, see who could show off the most teeth in their smile. Kevin won, of course. Lauren persevered. "I had so _long_ to think about it, while I was wandering out in that endless desert."

"The people of Desert Bluffs Too don't like you, as you are now. They don't _need_ you, Lauren. You know who they need? The guiding hand they want in their lives? _Me._ Oh it was _always_ me!" He was getting excited, swinging the hammer again but barely missing her face. "Strexcorp signed their paychecks but who held their hearts and minds? Who commanded their loyalty with just a word? This town is _mine._ These people are _mine._ We are here in this beautiful wasteland making it something _worth_ having and we toil under the unrelenting light of an _endless sun_. Can you picture anything more beautiful? Can you really imagine yourself more _fit_ to lead than me?"

"You're just a _radio host_ , Kevin."

"No, Lauren." He tapped her nose with the tip of his index finger, chuckling. " _Not_ just a radio host. **Never** 'just' a radio host."

"Nonetheless your credentials are not sufficient to declare yourself the leader of an entire town or even this radio station on its own. I can't accept it."

"Just _say it_. It'll be so easy to believe once you SAY. IT."

There was another crack on her forehead.

Something in her snapped and as soon as she was able she shouted, smile entirely dropping off her face, " _BUT I AM STREXCORP! AND THERE'S NO SMILING GOD WITHOUT STREXCORP!_ "

Kevin seemed to consider that a moment, humming and twirling the ice pick. Then he said, casually, "Mmm. But you're _not_ , Lauren. And there _is_."

Blood rolled down her cheeks like tears.

No, she was not a part of the company anymore. She had never really owned it. Even though it remained it was a pale shadow of its former glory. And this town was getting along fine without it. Everything she had sacrificed her life to achieve, it was over. It had _been_ over, but she was too desperate to see it. She felt like a dead person walking, a hollow shell with nothing but a smile plastered onto her face. …And not even that, right now.

She heard Kevin sympathetically clicking his tongue, leaning down to cup her chin in his hands. "Awww, don’t be sad, Lauren. After all, sad is the absolute _worst_ thing to be."

"I know, Kevin." But her smile didn't come back. Her voice was quiet, sniffling. "I am the absolute worst thing to be."

Kevin clutched at his heart. Or where his heart would have been if it hadn't been turned in to his Strexcorp supervisor a week after he'd been hired. "Lauren, you have to cheer up. I wasn't trying to make you sad. I was just trying to help you understand how things _were_."

"Because you're so kind, Kevin." She couldn't look at him, though he continued to hold her face so she couldn't turn her head away either. "I guess I just--don't like how things are."

"It doesn't have to be _all_ bad." He moved some of her hair out of her face, where it quickly reassumed the shape she used to spend every morning spraying it into. "I meant what I said before. You can be a very valued member of this community, Lauren. You just need to know your _place_."

"And where is that place, Kevin? You know so much. So much wisdom in your deep, soulful eyes." She dimly noted to herself that he had, from the looks of it, been picking at the stitching that held his third eyelid closed. Though he had not pulled the threads.

"Why, here with me!" And he sounded so _delighted_ to say it that she herself began to perk up. Just a little. Her mouth was in a grimace now. "Where I can keep _watch_ over you. Intern Vanessa hasn't been able to help out much with physical chores, naturally--"

"--Naturally--"

"--And we're all pretty much strapped for hired help around here. So many hands and bodies occupied with construction to improve the town. Why, I hardly have time to sort my mail, I'm so busy with broadcasting. So you see…I really could use you here. …We did have fun, didn't we?"

Lauren's voice sounded hoarse and broken and alien to her, perhaps compelled by some force outside of her control instead of her own mind that was still, regrettably aching too much to function properly. "You--you really do mean that, don't you Kevin?"

His grip on her face was becoming painful. "Of _course_. But there is one teensy tiny thing you have to say to me, first." He pulled on her eyelids, forcing her to look at him properly. "You know what I want, Lauren. It's not that hard. It's not like I'm asking you to cut your own heart out, or anything."

She giggled at that, the corners of her mouth finally stretching back. She had no heart either.

"You're in charge, Kevin. …I will remember that."

Her admission was rewarded with a release of her jaw and a look of ecstatic joy on Kevin's face. And then he pulled away to a table behind her. "I'm so, _so, **so**_ happy to hear that Lauren. You can start in a minute. First thing's first, there's a little situation we have to deal with."

"What's that, Kevin?"

He pulled back into her line of sight, a rusty saw held delicately between his two hands. "Silly me, I forgot the handcuff keys."


	4. this is a happy occasion

It was not possible to be covered in blood while you were only being astrally-projected (unwillingly) into a room that was full of it. Still though, Carlos made sure to keep his shoes off the floor as he fidgeted uncomfortably under Kevin's manically wide-eyed gaze.

" _So_ sorry about Vanessa," he was babbling, a pre-paid public service announcement warbling in the background. "She's probably having trouble finding things in your lab--I made sure no one touched anything in there, just in case, so it's still covered in blood and broken beakers."

Carlos did not ask _In case of what?_ , but instead, "How much longer do you think she'll be?"

"Who knows?" Kevin replied, delightedly. "I certainly don't mind, Carlos. I'm sure all my listeners will be _fascinated_ to hear you talk about the intricacies of what's happening to you right now."

His chair wobbled a little bit, and Carlos irritably pushed up his glasses. "Well I can't exactly go in much detail until I have my equipment. I only have vague hypotheses at the moment."

"Oh of course! But you'll figure it out soon, right?"

"If Vanessa comes back soon." He was a little worried because he hadn't actually _seen_ Vanessa go to get his things. Or at all. Actually, he'd been hoping Kevin would be the one to leave, just because talking with him was so…awkward now.

"Oh that pesky Vanessa." Kevin didn't seem particularly bothered though--hard to gauge as his constant smile was--and he whirled back to his microphone just as the pre-recorded message came to an end. "Well listeners, it seems that our charming scientist is still stuck in the station with us, still floating a couple feet off the ground."         

"--Just because I'm sitting in a chair, Kevin. In Night Vale."

The next honey-toned words came out more slowly, lower. Perhaps it was just the garish décor but Carlos thought he might detect a note of venom in there too. "…Yes. He is sitting in a chair. In Night Vale." And then after a pause the chortle came back. "But that's only where his mass is. His actual presence is here in my booth. Isn't that exciting, listeners?"

Carlos vaguely wondered if Kevin, similarities to Cecil taken into account, was in the habit of telling his audience every detail of his personal life. If he'd made any announcements when Carlos left. Or, assuming yes, if there was anyone there to hear them at the time.

" _Sooo_ , Carlos." And again there was that eager attention, an expression that would be so familiar if it didn't come paired with a horribly wide smile and black eyes. "How have you been? You look _great_. Is that a new haircut?"

"Well, um--I'm still up to my old tricks, I guess, doing a lot of science--"

"Oh I _love_ science." Kevin crooned, in a tone that very distinctly suggested it was not science that was the object of his affection.

Carlos sighed. "I think we're getting off track, Kevin."

The other with his black black eyes shuffled some papers around in front of him. "Quite right! We still have our little science discussion to do to cap off today's broadcast! Carlos, perhaps in the absence of your equipment you could start with talking about what led up to this little visit?"

"I could do that." The whole thing was starting to feel familiar, which was both comforting and unpleasant. "Uh--I was actually experimenting with…not astral projection but, with bloodstone summoning." He glanced around, at all the blood on the walls and on Kevin's desk. Most of it fresh. There was a heart near the microphone that looked almost like it was about to start beating.

" _Ugh_ ," Kevin laughed, a slightly gasping sound. "Night Vale and their bloodstones. I mean, are we still in the eighties? No wonder you're having problems, Carlos."

"Um. Yeah." Carlos frowned, scratching a little at his stubble. "Actually it was one of my interns who sort of…threw things out of whack. But this shouldn't have been the result, I don't think--I wasn't summoning _me._ Or- _-_ sending me anywhere, as it were."

"That's so fascinating. Shame you don't have good help, though. If you want something done right, huh? That's why I don't have interns."

"…But you said--"

"--Oh! We really should be wrapping up the show. Silly me, I almost left out our construction updates." Kevin cleared his throat, glancing in Carlos' direction as though checking to make sure he was listening as he turned back fully to the microphone. His voice dropped to a soft drone. "Dearest listeners, the desert sun may beat down on your necks, hot and unforgiving. Grains of sand may seep into your toenails through open sandals and encrust your sweat drenched bodies. Giant buzzards may descend to pick at your exposed bellies as you fall down exhausted on half-finished foundations and crumbling tile. But you must not give up. For the work is not done."

There was music playing now--something he'd heard before when he'd caught the odd broadcast aired by Strexcorp during its takeover of Night Vale. It left Carlos feeling vaguely unnerved, but then _every_ radio broadcast he's heard in the last few years has left him vaguely unnerved. If only he could identify where that music was coming from…

"We will be bigger. We will be _better_. We will sprawl across this desert like an army and bring our bliss to the giants who abandoned us. _And beyond._ No matter how many _bodies_ we must leave behind on the path to progress." Kevin tilted his head, as though hearing something only he was privy to. His voice immediately brightened. "Congratulations to Old Woman Josephine and her dear angel friends, who are quite real, for finally completing their Haunted Playhouse. Hard working citizens who have reached the end of their rope can take a walk inside to relax and then be slowly and painfully consumed by the spirits within. Sounds like loads of fun! This has been today's construction update.

"It seems we're quickly approaching that time again, so without much further ado I take you to The Weather."

Carlos watched uncertainly as the "On Air" light temporarily blinked out, and Kevin slipped off his headphones to stand. Dimly he was aware that violins were playing in the background.

"I do, so, _wish_ you could take a few steps outside today. See all the progress we've made. I'm sure you'd be thrilled. Maybe we could find a way to stretch this--this astral projection into a lengthier visit."

He didn't bother explaining that that was a concept he had very intensely investigated back when he was trapped in the otherworld and projecting into Nightvale, and very conclusively discovered that it wouldn't work. Instead he replied, "I'm not sure I can get behind that. I did leave for a reason."

Something on the floor squished as Kevin walked closer. "Oh but things are _different_ now! We have a whole community for you work in! You can help achieve something with people who _value_ scientific contribution instead of censoring it."

"Kevin--"

"I'll have them make you a bigger lab. The most up-to-date technology available--and considering the chronological distortions inherent to this plane, up-to-date can be _very_ advanced."

The hair on the back of Carlos' neck began to stand up. He didn't know if Kevin had an actual plan in mind but he seemed to be moving as though he did. " _Kevin_ \--"

"You don't have to risk your life, if you don't want to. You don't have to worry, anymore. Don't you see? Things are so much _better_ here, and we're not even finished with it all! Why, with your help--"

"--Kevin I'm getting married to Cecil."

The words slipped out in a rushed panic, and instantly he regretted saying them. Pressed in a huddle against the back of his chair, as it were. Kevin froze. Head tilting just slightly, the smile stuck on his face. At the same time, Carlos felt something change in the air. Outside of the now palpable tension between the two of them.

"…You are?"

"I meant to--to send an announcement, but--" He scoffed nervously, trying to sound aloof and miserably failing at it. "You know how carrier pigeons are once they go through the dog park."

"Inverted." Kevin sat back in his broadcasting chair, steepling his fingers.

"Yeah."

The violins were now being drowned out by piano and vocalizing.

"When was--when was this planned?" The smile on Kevin's face was stuck, his lips barely moving though he somehow enunciated every word perfectly. The effect was rather unsettlingly like a badly animated video game cutscene. "When did he propose?"

"I proposed to him, actually."

"Oh you did." And whoever was programming the expressions for this character model was doing a very bad job, because the tone of despair was completely unsuited to the cheer in the crinkling of his eyes. But Kevin corrected his voice soon enough. "--Look at _you!_ Seizing the day! I'm so happy for you, Carlos. And…Cecil too. Though I'm not sure why you felt the need to announce it to me so suddenly like that. --If you mean to invite me, well…"

Carlos swallowed. "I don't think that's a good idea. --If you take one step in Night Vale, everyone will attack you. You know, after the whole…Strexcorp. Thing."

"Oh." The syllable was uncomfortably drawn out, the smile on Kevin's face widening to show his pink gums. His teeth were so bright and so many that Carlos had never actually seen his gums until now. "Well, even so--" _even so?_ "--I'm really far too busy here to take that kind of time out of my schedule. Ooh! I'll be sure to send you something. Like a card, or a pleasant little gift basket."

Carlos could only imagine what kind of hideous assortment of organs would constitute Kevin's idea of a "gift basket". "Oh no no no, really that's okay--"

"Carlos?" The world seemed to be dimming, something almost approaching a confused frown making it at least to the upper half of Kevin's face. "Carlos I can't hear you anymore."

"--My interns must have figured something out." Carlos could hear himself and see himself perfectly, but the station around him was beginning to fade. "I think whatever it is, it's--"

And then something happened that almost made his heart stop.

Kevin stopped smiling.

"Carlos? --Carlos you're starting to blink out. Carlos, can you hear me? --Don't leave me, Carlos. Don't leave me aga--"

Desert Bluffs Too was gone.

Carlos closed his eyes, rubbing at his lids beneath his glasses.

There had been nothing between him and Kevin. Or at least, he had long been convinced of that fact during their so-called friendship out in the wasteland. He was just a man who happened to look a lot like his boyfriend. And really, if he'd known that it wasn't barbecue sauce all over his shirt, Carlos would have probably let Doug toss him away from the campfire the moment he stumbled in.

But Kevin wasn't a bad companion.

He was a little pushy, sure. Anyone with exuberance was like that, in Carlos' experience. He was also supportive. A surprisingly good conversationalist. And _exceptionally_ hard working. Even if he was a little frightening, so was everything that Carlos had come to consider home. It was strangely comforting in a way that he was sure Cecil would sputter and scoff indignantly at if he ever happened to mention it to him.

There had been so much to do, though, Carlos hadn't really given the whole matter any more thought than that.

Maybe that was why he didn't cotton on sooner.

Why he didn't catch the hopeless puppy dog look that came over Kevin's dark black eyes whenever they were in sight of him.

The way he came over to the makeshift lab with ever increasing frequency, asking about his work and his coats and if he would like Kevin to help him decorate.

The conspiratorial tone that would enter Kevin's voice whenever the two of them discussed science, as though it was a secret for the two of them alone.

The praise. The constant, earnest, _happy_ praise of how much Carlos got done, or how he happened to be dressed, or the experiments that he performed on sand.

And maybe.

Maybe Carlos hadn't allowed himself to notice because he'd secretly liked the attention.

Because it reminded him of Cecil.

By the time he'd realized what was going on, how far he'd lapsed, it was too late to put up a wall without hurting him. If a person like Kevin was even capable of really being hurt, anymore.

Carlos took a breath, getting ready to turn around and come clean, back where he belonged again, where he needed to be.         

"Cecil you have to promise not to be mad but I ended up telling-- _Son of a bitch!"_

This wasn't Night Vale either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not 100% satisfied with this one but tired of working on it at this point.


	5. Seeing Things More Clearly

Kevin had never looked in a mirror before that day the sandstorm took him to Night Vale.

Not since he was very young, anyway.

And, really, he hadn't looked in a mirror a while after that either. Just one of those silly little habits that stuck with him even after the buyout.

He had wondered, though. Stared at photo after photo that had been taken of himself, and thought about his double. About the similarities between them, and yet the cold certainty that they were _not_ the same. And he'd been very tempted to look in the nearest reflective surface and make sure that those photos were accurate, but then some silly little habits were hard to break.

But he was standing in front of a covered mirror now. Not for a cosmetic checkup or confirmation of his features but because he had to see, because he was the only one he trusted to do this now. There were no doctors in Desert Bluffs Too.

He grinned and chuckle-choked through some of his nerves. He had a show coming up, he couldn't stand there for hours psyching himself out.

There was a flickering, when he first pulled the tarp off the mirror in the new men's bathroom. A dark shape in the corner of his eye. But it fled at the sight of his smile and left Kevin alone with nothing but his reflection.

"Hi friend." He whispered experimentally to himself, touching the surface of the glass. The reflection was strange. Inverted. He was too used to photographs, and it felt exactly like he was talking to his double. Like talking to a Cecil that had given in to Strexcorp and the Smiling God.

"Congratulations." Kevin could feel his cheeks crinkle and his voice turn raspy. "Congratulations, congratulations, you lucky bastard. _You lucky lucky fucking bastard."_

The show. The show. He needed to be quicker about this. He murmured a quick apology to his reflection for his completely inappropriate outburst and brought his fingers up to the middle of his forehead.

They had tried removing _it_ , once upon a time. For the first couple weeks of his employment every few days he would be attended to by Strexcorp's best surgeon and had the darned thing removed while he was strapped to a chair and screaming (because it was still during his little adjustment period). But it kept growing back.

The solution they'd finally come to was sealing it shut, and that seemed to do the trick.

He was no longer in his employee contract. There was no reason for him to hold off on reversing the surgeries that they'd enacted upon him. Without moving his eyes he took out a small pair of sewing scissors from his pocket, gently clipping at the knots.

"Snip, snip, sni-i-p--"

The sharp little scissors clipped his skin a little as he cut and Kevin giggled, loud and shrieking. But then he had to keep going. He had to. He couldn't keep picking at it day and night.

The threads rubbed against his lids, like an unbearable tickle. Kevin laughed desperately, having to stop and curl up in a ball on the floor until the feeling passed. He had to do this several times before they were all gone. The little holes were still left in his skin, and something in his chest _ached_ to see them. Finally he was able to straighten himself out, forcefully pulling up the lid. Just to sate his curiosity.

White.

He's not sure why he was expecting it to also be black.

A little beep went off on his wrist. Five minutes. Out of force of habit he swung the tarp back over the mirror and made his way back to the recording booth.

Maybe later he'd ask some of his listeners to install mirrors in his bathroom, make shaving in the morning easier.

When he got there the other chair in the producer desk was empty. He briefly knitted his brows at the thought that Lauren was shirking work, before remembering he'd sent her out to dig ditches and pour concrete.

Everything felt weird.

He clapped his headphones on over his ears, glancing back at the on-air sign and waiting for it to flair its glorious, bright red that caused the blood coating his studio to sparkle.

The moment it did, he felt _it_ flip open a few inches below his hairline. A shiver ran up his back.

"…Good afternoon, Desert Bluffs Too. Or, what we can assume to be afternoon, if our clocks are right. And they always are, so it is a safe assumption." Kevin's voice was slow and uncertain, though he knew he should be chipper. That was what his people needed. But he felt like he was doing a broadcast naked. Worse, even--he'd done a broadcast naked before and it hadn't been this vulnerable. He wondered if it had been this bad before. Maybe that was why his superiors had him blinded. "Today is a…special day, in the development of our new home. Or…perhaps it is better to say, it's a special day in the development of…me. Your ever faithful radio host."

His mouth went dry, and he licked his smiling lips. He could feel the information pouring into his brain but it didn't make sense to him. Dark caverns, hungry gods, champagne glasses filled with a frothing purple liquid. It was like taking a test for a class you had dropped several years before.

"I have been thinking about…seeing things. About all the things in this great universe that there are to see, and how I have been…deliberately…not seeing it."

There was a stack of papers in front of him. Today's program. He'd written it himself.

"I have taken off the training wheels, listeners."

He began to methodically tear up each page, soaking it in the blood pooled on his desk.

"I am seeing…a lot of things right now. Things that I have not seen for a long time, things that my old bosses at _Strex_ corp had to tell me because I could not see it for myself. For today's broadcast, I would like to just…focus on that."

The world seemed to sway. The heart next to his microphone gave a single beat.

"There are giants in the sky. --Metaphorically speaking, of course. In reality they are inhabiting the mountains and hills that tower unbelievably high above all of us and everything that we hold dear. I have met them. I have helped sharpen their glistening blades just as now they grind and scrape to ready their tools of war. Today, they are waging war against savages covered in crinkly yellow tape that curls at the ends. Tomorrow, perhaps they will return."

A bark of a chuckle escaped his lips.

"But tomorrow is another day. Let's focus on _today_. Let's focus on the _now_. For _now_ is the most productive of all states. _Now_ is the time to give everything you are. I see gleaming white teeth, my friends. I see a civilization in a rainy swamp begin to suffocate and decay under its own pathetic apathy. I see green lights flickering over a moth-eaten dinner jacket, swaddling a newborn child with a birth mark in the shape of a koi fish. I see a corned beef sandwich with mayonnaise and lettuce."

Kevin paused.

"Some things I am seeing, I think, are not entirely relevant to be talking about on the air. And are also disgusting. --Let's focus on what's relevant to Desert Bluffs Too! If I can just get this darn eye of mine to focus. Silly thing."

His ears twitched. At the very bottom of the building he heard a door slam.

"In the space that we currently inhabit, I see…Oh dear. I see someone, dear listeners. Someone in our cheery little town who is _not **. Working**._ "

The visions came unbidden and he spoke without even needing to think of the words, breathless and through his teeth.

"Sweat rolls down his back, soaking his much too-large black T-shirt with Pink Floyd album cover art on the front. His brother, and father, and mother, and sister are all working, but he is not. He is sitting, arm cast over his eyes to resist the unrelenting light of our loving sun. Sitting on the unfinished curb like the _unproductive_ lump of flesh and organs that he is."

Kevin's third eye blinked, and he calmly rested his chin on his hands. "Lauren has just returned to the studio, listeners." He didn't even turn around but he knew she was there. "So, while everyone makes sure to remind Derek Liebermann near the new housing development just how important it is that everyone pitch in while we're busy rebuilding, let's go to a pre-recorded announcement on our new policy regarding those pesky bloodstones some of you picked up from Night Vale, hm?"

"I finished digging the last ditch, Kevin." There was a bit of strain to the voice behind him underneath the grin he knew she was wearing. There usually was, on days like this. At least some of it was probably tiredness. "I thought you could use a bit of a boost to brighten your report so I picked us up some Starbucks."

"I don't need _Starbucks_ to give myself energy, Lauren. I'm just a naturally cheerful person." He swiveled around in his chair, leaning back and letting her eyes focus on the middle of his forehead.

Lauren choked on her coffee, eyes widening. "You took out the stitches."

He giggled. "I did."

There was the sound of a lone teenage boy screaming from outside the station.


	6. Steve Carlsberg

Upon further inspection, sitting across from the man outside the Desert Bluffs Too milkshake shop, Steve Carlsberg had to conclude that it wasn't so much that Kevin's eyes were filled with blood, as he'd originally thought, but that they were burned black from some hideous light. Probably the light that he'd tried to fill Night Vale with, so maybe it was a good thing that Kevin had said those nasty remarks about Janice and enraged him into an assault after all.

The strangest thing about him though was that it was Cecil's face smiling at him.

\--If that could be called a smile, anyway.

"So, uh…You wanna talk about the stars?"

Steve had barely touched his milkshake.

"What?" Kevin's smile was still frozen on his face, but since seeing Steve after his captors had taken the bag off his head the man had spoken with a sort of cooled cheer--like the kind you put on when you get one thing instead of the thing you actually wanted, but you don't want to hurt anyone's feelings by acting upset about it.

"The stars. You know, uh--small talk."

"We have no stars in this particular part of the desert, Steve."

Steve glanced up at the sky. Come to think of it, he had to have been here for at least five hours, and the sun hadn't changed its position in the sky one iota.

"Huh. How do you know what's what?"

"That is a very good question, Steve."

This was getting awkward fast. Steve scratched a little along the back of his neck, glancing around at all the other blood-stained patrons of the milkshake shop. He liked to imagine that he was good at defusing uncomfortable situations, but he was painfully aware of how easy it was for men with Kevin's features to hold grudges against him. And this wasn't like with Cecil, where he'd just made a few off-color comments, he'd, well.

"--I'm really glad you're being so, uh, pleasant, Kevin." Steve finally took a sip. The milkshake was okay but it tasted…vaguely bitter after letting it settle on his tongue.

Kevin tilted his head slightly. Absolutely nothing else in his posture shifted. "Why would I not be pleasant? I always try to be accommodating for visitors. Especially ones I know personally."

"Well I just figured you might have…you know, a problem with me?"

"Steve, you are a charming and fascinating man with very insightful ideas about the menacing forces governing Night Vale and, indeed, the rest of the world that you and everyone you love inhabits. Why would I have a problem with you?"

Those were not words that he was used to hearing. At all. Steve had to quickly blink away the wetness in his eyes, not sure if he'd be welcome if they caught him crying. "--I mean I did throw you through that oak door. --I am sorry about that, by the way. You know how it is with daughters."

"No, I don't." Kevin patted the spot on the table right next to his hand, teeth shining. "No need to be sorry, though! That, like **everything else** that happened around then, is all in the _past_. Besides, if you hadn't done that, I wouldn't be here in this lovely town right now. So you see, it all worked out for the best!"

"Yeah, I guess that's a good way to look at it." There was the sound of screaming, from somewhere. Not a single bloodcurdling shriek, but a collective roar. In the distance he could see a roller coaster.

The roller coaster, Steve had been assured, was not technically a part of Desert Bluffs Too. It had been built by giants. Terrifying, lovely giants who had created the foundations of this town and then left. Apparently they didn't write back nearly as much as Kevin would like.

He had never been to the old Desert Bluffs. But if this town was supposed to be an almost exact replica, then Steve had to admit that it really did look a _lot_ like Night Vale, but perhaps inverted somehow, in some way he couldn't reliably measure. Kevin was the most obvious example of this. Maybe it was something Steve would talk to his new brother-in-law about, once he made it back home. Carlos was pretty much the only person he could talk to, when it came to questioning why certain things were, well, the way they were. Even if he tended to be very confusing about it.

"Hey, uh…Just out of curiosity, Kevin, do you have a sister?"

Kevin's expression didn't change at all, sucking down more of his milkshake. His was almost gone. "Not anymore! Why do you ask?"

"--No reason." Something in his chest hurt a little bit at the sound of that. Something else he couldn't accurately measure.

* * *

The hotel that Kevin had sent Steve to while he figured out what to do with him was incomplete. Some of the rooms were complete. Some of them didn't have a roof, or plumbing. To his relief there was almost no one staying in it, so the completed rooms were available. Mostly. There was a young man in one of them that Steve had stumbled in on by accident, curled into a ball on his bed and shivering violently. Blood soaked his T-shirt, which wasn't all that uncommon for the people here, but unlike the rest of them his mouth was twisted into a grimace instead of a smile.

It was probably best to leave stuff like that alone.

On the way over, Kevin had asked a lot about Carlos. A lot of uncomfortable questions--uncomfortable largely in that Steve didn't know how to answer them. He'd used a lot of complicated jargon that Steve didn't know, pestering him about projects that he'd never been privy to. He hated to disappoint, though--Steve prided himself on his helpfulness.

"I think he talked about energy source stuff last week?" he'd tried, knowing that it had nothing to do with researching perpetual energy in an otherworld desert but rather hypothetically pondering the results of locking a librarian in an enlarged hamster wheel and seeing how much electricity it could produce per rotation if you dropped an overdue book in front of it.

But Kevin had seemed pleased, clapping Steve on the back as he shoved him towards the reception desk. "Thank you. That's nice to hear. He works so hard, I just love it. There's a problem I wish I could run by him. Ah well."

Now Steve was alone, and he didn't have to worry about forcing a smile over his terror. He sat on the bed and dug his fingers into his hair. They'd taken him from right outside Big Rico's. Of course he'd thought initially that it was the Secret Police, because when you were as open about the city's secrets as he tended to be that sort of thing just happened a lot. But then he'd smelled the coppery sour of blood and realized someone else entirely had him in their van.

Cecil hadn't opened up to him much about what Carlos was up to in the desert otherworld, and Carlos had seemed ashamed to talk about it for a while after getting back, but one thing he remembered from the broadcasts was that phones still worked. Hoping he didn't run up some long-distance charges, Steve took out his cellphone and dialed his house.

"Hello?"

It was Janice.

"--Hey sweetie! It's Steve."

"Steve! Steve, everyone's looking for you! The Secret Police checked their cameras at Big Rico's and said you got pulled into a van! Mom's worried sick! Where are you?"

"You remember that place Uncle Carlos was trapped in a while back? That's where I am now."

"Uncle Carlos says he wasn't trapped there, he was 'figuring things out', and that he needed to realize that--"

"--Honey I know you wanna tell me all about it but we don't really have time for that now. Look, you need to go find Uncle Carlos and ask him how he got home, okay?"

He hated to cut Janice off whenever she wanted to talk to him, but thankfully when she spoke next there was no affronted huff in her tone. "Okay Steve. I'm on it. I'll go into my racing wheelchair so I go extra fast, okay?"

She hung up before he could insist she not put herself at risk for his sake, sighing and staring at the phone.

Well, he wasn't going to get anywhere sitting around on a mattress with bloodstained sheets. Steve got to his feet and made his way outside again.

There was no one to stop him--the radio at the front desk was running, and he paused to listen to the opening segment of Kevin's show long enough to know that most everyone had headed downtown to build up a new Aldi's.

Good. He could explore without being grabbed again.

Not all of the buildings were covered in blood, he noted as he wandered through the town as it was still under construction. Steve wasn't sure if that was because not all of them were supposed to be, or because there was a finite amount of animals and opposing armies that they could get the blood from. It was reassuring to some extent at least. He was no stranger to bloodletting, but this was a little overzealous even for Night Vale standards.

Though it was eerie to be followed only be Kevin's bubbly voice, carrying through the air from every radio in the vicinity.

The layout was like Night Vale but everything was on the wrong side. There were other minor changes, too--the suburbs were more orderly and uniform, for one. Steve glanced in a couple of the homes and found them all empty of furniture--evidently they were still focusing on the buildings for the most part rather than the contents inside them. Which made the speed at which they were getting things done a little less impressive but not by much.

He steered clear of the Aldi's. A writhing mass of bodies putting together brick and cement didn't look very inviting to him, no matter how Kevin worded it.

Eventually, Steve found himself at the radio station.

Briefly, he considered going inside. Back in Night Vale he'd barged into the station to see Cecil more times than he could count. It would be interesting to see if it was the same kind of building. But, one whiff from the entrance door and the foul stench of entrails hit his nostrils.

"No…no I don't think so."

He'd been in the middle of looking through a gore-streaked pawn shop later when he remembered that it was impossible to call the desert otherworld from Night Vale. He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed, keeping one eye out for any stray onlookers.

"--Steve! I'm so glad you called! I am _so_ sorry that you've been there so long, I was in the middle of an experiment when Janice came over and it took _two whole days_ to get myself extracted from the--"

"Carlos it's only been a couple hours." Steve frowned, glancing at his watch. Although, Cecil had told him, rather smugly at the time, that the watch Carlos had given him was the only real timepiece in Night Vale, so it conceivably could have been a few days, and maybe he just didn't notice because his watch wasn't real.

"Oh. …I forgot about the irregularity of time over there. --Well, good! So you weren't waiting too long. Listen, does Desert Bluffs Too have a dog park?"

"A dog park? Umm…Yeah I think I might have seen…something like that? I mean it sure didn't _look_ like a dog park but it had a sign with a dog on it…"

"That sounds about right. Listen Steve, you need to go in that dog park to get back to Night Vale."

"I have to _what?"_ It felt forbidden even thinking about it. "Gee, I don't know, Carlos…That's a bit much even for me. --And that place with the sign, that was kind of creepy. All white picket fence with grisly organs and shimmering air. I didn't even see a gate."

"It's either that or walk an indeterminate number of miles in that desert just to get through the dog park on our end. And, um," Steve heard Carlos swallow a little noisily. "City Council made the walls taller, as I'm sure you recall, in response to uh. Certain parties using it. --And Mayor Cardinal still hasn't gotten it really opened up yet."

"Oh geeze…" Whatever he was going to do, he needed to do it before the Aldi's was done. Then it would be a lot harder to hide. "…Alright, alright. --You mind if I keep you on the line while I go through?"

"Not at all! Actually I'm really interested to see what happens to the phone connection when transitioning from one dimension to the other…"

* * *

The production of a jail--or, as Kevin cheerfully put it, a "Relaxation House for Uninvited Guests"--started up the very next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been out of writing muse for a bit but I've been sitting on this one for a little while so though I'd get it wrapped up and posted. Not sure if the conclusion is satisfactory but ah well.


	7. A Scenario Where Kevin Gets One Thing He Wants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An AU, sort of.

Kevin drops by the lab after his broadcast like he does every morning.

Carlos greets him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey sweetie," he says, blood on the edges of his sleeves despite a valiant effort to remain clean in the red, red laboratory. "I heard your show."

"Did you now?" Kevin is noticeably pleased by the declaration. "What was your favorite part?"

"I really liked what you said about the scientific method."

"I thought you might." Kevin waggles his eyebrows a little teasingly and he is rewarded with a blush. "I know how much you like science. I like it too."

"What did you come down here for? I mean," said a little hastily, as though Carlos fears misinterpretation, "I thought you liked to go 24/7. --25/8."

"It's lunch time, silly! Of course I would take time off for _you._ " There is no actual need to eat here, but he knows some habits are hard to break.

"Oh! That's very thoughtful of you, Kevin." Carlos retreats to his station and puts away a beaker bubbling with orange liquid, flicking off the blue flame underneath. "I didn't, uh--I guess I lost track of time."

"Time isn't real here, you know."

"I know." Something slows Carlos' step as he returns, a thoughtful frown crossing his features that makes Kevin wince.

Kevin displays a lunch box, waving it playfully. It has kittens on it, but more importantly it makes Carlos smile.

For a moment, anyway.

"Awww, that's cute. You know, Cecil has the exact…same…lunch box…"

Kevin immediately tosses the offending item to the other side of the building, but the damage has already been done.

Carlos does not move right away. He stares at his hands, eyes set, expression frozen as his mind processes his resurfacing emotions again, as though for the first time.

Kevin goes to grab Carlos' shoulder, tries to hold him still, but it only snaps him into a full-blown panic.

His voice is strained, and cracking. "I should be--I should be back in Night Vale."

Kevin doesn't have to say a word. The lab assistants grab Carlos by the coat, by his arms, by his hair, and pin him to the wall. He fights, gasping and shouting a string of words only intelligible because Kevin has heard them before.

"IshouldbetherewithCecilIdon'tdeservetoliveIfailedallofthemjustletmegobenothingwiththempleaseI'mbeggingyouletmego--"

He smiles comfortingly and waits for Carlos to finish the thought, straightening his lab coat idly.

It takes him a moment before he realizes that instead of desperate babbling Carlos has instead switched to trying to appeal to him personally. "Kevin, please. I'm sorry, it's not--I can't keep doing this, I can't keep pretending--please, just let me go home."

"Home?" He plays coy.

"Night Vale. I need to be, I should be in Night Vale. With Cecil."

"There is nothing in Night Vale, now," Kevin explains patiently. "There are only Strangers."

Carlos makes a noise like a dying animal and thrashes again. "I should be nothing. We should be nothing together. I shouldn't _be here_."

"Stay."

"Please, I can't--I can't live like this anymore, Kevin, please, I just want to stop, I want everything to go away, please--"

"Is that what Cecil would want?"

Kevin's hands grip Carlos' head like a burning vice, forcing him to meet his soulless gaze.

He feels a little thrill of pleasure at being so efficient at this now, of knowing exactly what to say to cut through to him. It's like a game the two of them play together.

"Would Cecil want you to consign your beautiful, brilliant mind to oblivion?"

Carlos sobs. "No."

"And you loved Cecil, didn't you?"

The past tense causes him agony, Kevin knows. He deeply longs to pluck Carlos' bleeding heart out and put it on his desk where it can't hurt him anymore. But for now he can only watch it squirm beneath skin and fabric.

" _Didn't you?_ "

"I did." Tears are now rolling down Carlos' cheeks. He has stopped struggling. "I was going to--we were going to be--"

Kevin tightens his grip. "Then you should honor his last wish for you to be _safe_."

Carlos is not safe. But nobody points out this hole in Kevin's logic.

"And if you're really _so_ inclined to destroy who you are, well. There are better and brighter ways to do…that," He says kindly. Happily. Emptily.

Carlos does not vehemently oppose the idea being hinted at to him as he has in the past. This makes Kevin grin wider. "...I can't..."

He knows he wants only one thing from this scientist. For him to be happy. To see his face lit up with pure joy. And he is very patient. He can wait, until he is ready.

Kevin gestures for the lab assistants to let Carlos go.

He pitches forward and cries helplessly against Kevin's bloodstained sweater vest. Kevin allows him his grief and slips his fingers into Carlos' hair, smoothing and untangling it until it is perfect, until he is done weeping.

"You could use a haircut," he observes, voice low and soothing.

Carlos pulls back. His face is streaked with ugly tears and snot from his blubbering. Kevin cups his cheeks once more, gently.

Then he pulls him in and kisses him.

Not gently.

Carlos goes rigid, hands balling into fists against his chest as though trying to shove him away. But then he slumps and gives in.

He always does.

Simply because what Kevin offers is better than nothing.

When the two part again, Carlos is flushed and smiling, wiping his face with his sleeve. The smile is not as wide as Kevin would like. It is a smile of embarrassment.

"Thank you." His voice is shy. He passes his eyes back over his gory equipment.

"Thank _you_ , Carlos." Kevin checks the clock. Less time than the last. Always at least a minute less time. His cheeks twitch.

"I should get back to work." There is blood all over Carlos' back from the wall, and a few streaks on his front from being in contact with Kevin. "I'm sorry."

"Don't ever be sorry, Carlos." Kevin licks his lips. He does this without parting his teeth. "Sorry is another word for _sad_. It is another word for _living in the past._ "

"Oh. Then--" Carlos struggles. For a moment it seems like his fragile, imperfect nature is threatening to overwhelm him again, but he wins the battle with himself. For now.

Kevin's eyebrows faintly twist in sympathy. He doesn't notice he's doing it.

"--Then I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry, and I'm going back to work."

"That's the spirit." Kevin chucks his chin affectionately. "We have a busy day ahead of us, don't we? A very _productive_ day. I'll see you tonight, Carlos."

Carlos only nods, and returns to his station.

Just like he does every morning Kevin walks out of the lab with tears mingling in the blood on his clothes, humming airily to himself.


	8. Vanessa

Kevin's nose used to be the slightest bit crooked.

He is giving a staff meeting and he is talking to no one but himself, but he is also talking to her, and she remembers that his nose used to be the slightest bit crooked.

There are a lot of things about Kevin that are different, now.

Lauren comes in late, because he deliberately gave her the wrong time to arrive, and he prickles in irritation that doesn't make it to his face because though she is late she is earlier than he told her to be. She makes for Vanessa's chair and Kevin casually tosses his pocket knife to land in the back as an indicator that maybe Lauren should sit somewhere else.

The handle of the knife is now sticking slightly out of Vanessa's chest, and she can't see the rest of it.

But she sees it perfectly because her chair is empty.

Kevin's eyes used to be a bright, sunshiney yellow, and now they and his entire sclerae are an inky black. But she can still feel the turn of his eyes, the slight shift in the air when he moves his warped attention to something new, or something loathed. She has learned to understand the meaning behind every facet of his posture. Now, for instance, he is glowering at Lauren without changing anything in his expression.

Most of the time he is the only one in the station. And as she cannot leave the station, he is her only friend.

Kevin and Lauren are talking about budgets, and they are talking about the next week of the show, and Lauren suggests hiring an intern to take care of the day to day in the radio station.

_I don't need an intern_ , Kevin says cheerfully, and he gestures to where Vanessa is sitting.

Lauren looks at the empty chair and says, warbling with happiness, _Yes, I suppose you're right, Kevin, how silly of me._

And Kevin adds, thoughtfully, _Although, I do really need a new intern after we lost Vanessa._

Vanessa used to bring Kevin coffee in the morning, and he used to take it with one cream and an unholy, ungodly amount of sugars. And now she brings him black coffee in the morning. Now Kevin makes his own coffee in the morning, and he puts nothing in it, because being economical is holy and godly.

The issue of hiring more staff is put on hold, because all of Desert Bluffs Too is out building the city anyway. The City Council is among those drafted into the construction teams, and so Kevin and Lauren hash out the community calendar themselves, just the two of them. Every day is a work day. Kevin suggests that Friday be "Casual Friday", where everyone does precisely the same amount of work but in hideous Hawaiian tropical shirts. Lauren loves this idea.

Kevin asks Vanessa her opinion and she says she hates it. She hates what he has become. She hates her current state of existence, and she hates Lauren and Strexcorp for doing this to them. She hates so many things. And Kevin grins, because he is always grinning, because she has not said anything, because she is not there.

At the very least, there is some small comfort in that he has transitioned out of his Strex-mandated suit and back into the sweater-vests that he used to adore so much. Even if they are now bloody and perfectly straight instead of clean and slightly rumpled from lounging around in his swivel chair at the mic when off-air. She used to roll her eyes and adjust his red bowtie for him every morning, and now he does it himself because he is no longer afraid of mirrors.

Lauren leaves the meeting, and Kevin turns to Vanessa.

His shoulders are square, and his back is straight. He is not resting his cheek on his hand, pulling out his phone to check his Twitter and then asking airily if she would like to go get some donuts because he figures they could both use a pick-me-up. And he is not idly wondering if she would like to go play darts with him and hiding the very slight hurt in his expression when she says no.

He says nothing. He is looking at empty air.

He says, brow creasing in a pitiful attempt at anything other than a smile, _Vanessa?_

She says nothing. She is empty air.

She says, calm and thoughtful, _Your pocket knife is sticking out of my chest._

And his eyebrows spring back up, lower lids creasing in joy, and he stands to retrieve his knife. As he does so he giggles, and says, "This week is going to be so much fun. It's really starting to look like home out there."

The flickering of his gaze is upon her once again as he draws the knife through her to put back in his pocket, and she sees that the eye on his forehead is open and bloodshot. His expression does not change, it can not change, but his voice is cracked and broken and sorry. "Vanessa?"

The chair is empty.

After all these years she is the only intern other than himself to have survived working at the Desert Bluffs Community Radio station.

After all these years he still has some of the skin of her throat under his fingernails.

He walks away, humming to himself, and she trails along behind him.


End file.
